


Beneath the Weirwood Tree

by decembersiris



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 00:33:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20957504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decembersiris/pseuds/decembersiris
Summary: Robb shares a moment with Dany, and grapples with his emotions to confess what he has to say.





	Beneath the Weirwood Tree

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off a commission made for me from someone on tumblr, here is the link to access the beautiful art!
> 
> https://decembersiris.tumblr.com/post/188223773559/they-stood-beneath-the-great-white-arms-of-the

They stood beneath the great white arms of the weirwood tree, the autumn wind rustling through the crimson leaves to softly run its gentle fingers through Robb’s hair. A cool breeze, Robb thought, but pleasant as the sun dipped its rays between the small cracks in the heavy gray clouds, illuminating the leaves of the tree like blood singed with fire.

Robb hesitated then, remembering the presence of his companion and what he had meant to say since he brought her here. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her pale face bathed in sunlight, the breeze caressing her face as she closed her eyes to the fractured gift of warm, golden light, the breath of air taking up her moonlight locks, twisting them to dance, and Robb found himself envious—how many nights had he envision lacing his fingers through her silken, silver hair, and yet the wind could touch her with neither fear nor rebuke. 

The sun shied away behind the clouds all too soon, and her amethyst eyes opened, a light smile curling her lips, framing her cheeks and up to those violet pools surrounded by long, dark lashes. What would it be like to stare into the gems of her soul for an evening, an hour—for ever. To plant a kiss there in the sleepy morning hours before dawn. Or upon her brow, at the line of her hair, when she’s come to him in need of comfort under the weight of the hardships she’s faced—faces.

Her smile was serene, sincere, and he wondered for a moment if she was at peace with him, now, as he would like to be with her. His heart threatening the integrity of his ribs, his hands clamming within his gloves, he found himself brave enough to steal a glance at her lips, the fullness of them, rose petals tinted ever so sweetly with purple, darkening them to scarlet and earth. In a soft winter’s morning as crystal snow flutters around them, he imagined wrapping his cloak about her as snowflakes laid upon her hair, her lashes, her lips. He dreamed to leave a kiss there too.

“The grass grows with abandon when the snow has melted,” the Silver Queen remarked. “A welcome relief to the snow. And the tree is beautiful surrounded by such greenery.”

She turned her eyes, her smile holding as she looked upon him, and, meeting her eyes, he felt himself warm and burn, as if her stare set embers smoldering within him. He only realized then that he had been holding his breath, and the coward in him wondered if she had noticed, if he had been given away.

His tongue turned dry, fat, and useless in his mouth, all he could force from his lips was, “Aye.”

She turned her body to full face him, and Robb did not miss the small step she took towards him, the slight tilt of her head, and the quizzical look in her expression—it only lasted the briefest of moments, but he saw it—that she so expertly tried to hide behind her kind demeanor.

“What is it you have wished to tell me, King in the North?” Her tone was alike to him a wolf’s howl.

He felt himself aflame from the inside out. His feet shuffled beneath him, tightening with the need to shorten the gap between them, his arms craving for the weight of her, her warmth about him, his fingers aching for the soft touch of her cheek, her hair, her neck, her hand—but the fool screaming within feared he’d melt away to ash if he dared.

So without a thought, with newfound courage like fresh snow—the wolf devouring the fool—he went to his knee, resting his arm upon it as he stared up at her, eyes of blue ice upon lilac flowers—what lovely colors they’d make.

“I relinquish my title of King in the North. I pledge the North to House Targaryen, to the rightful heir to the Seven Kingdoms—to Daenerys Targaryen—“ He paused, his throat working as he watched her expression transform from gentle mirth to cool astonishment, a line at her brow as her lips parted. Such surprise, and his heart beat like battle drums—a battle would be easier, he thought, wondering if he was making a mistake.

But he could not stop them now, the words tumbling from his mouth, and he felt the fool digging in his bones. He swallowed his uncertainty, blood rushing, brazen.

“I pledge myself to you, Dany. My sword and heart are yours.”

Daenerys stared down at him, and he could not look away despite how small and feeble he felt, like Grey Wind when the pup was pulled from his mother’s side all those years ago. A Stark, a man and nothing more, turning ashen at the feet of the beautiful Dragon Queen beneath the heart tree.

But he did not bow his head or cower from her eyes, his chin tilted up as he set his jaw. 

A moment more, and then she blinked, and then she smiled, a glimmer of benevolence in her eyes, and Robb’s throat tightened as his body turned cold.

He watched her as she shifted, her body sinking as she knelt down before him. She reached out then and took his hand. His heart quivered. He would not hope. But as she clasped her fingers about his hand, and as she guided him to stand together beneath the white and red of the tree of the Old Gods, he thought he saw something more in her eyes. Was there affection? Akin to what he felt for her?

But she did not allow him the time to ponder it as she disrupted the space between them, her lips a sweet smile while her hand rose to touch and cradle his neck. He froze or burned. He could not distinguish between them, only keenly aware of her touch. His breathing stopped, and perhaps his heart did too. She did not wait for him as she placed a kiss upon his lips, softer than his wildest fancies, sweeter than his dearest dreams.

Hesitant at first, he closed his eyes, melting as he returned her kiss with his own gentleness, searing the feel of her warmth, her taste into his memory, stealing the moment to relive forever should the moment become nothing more than autumn wind, ephemeral. But that horrid thought dissipated by the sweet stroke of her thumb at the back of his jawline. His heart sang like the ringing of clashing swords. And when she pulled away, his lips trembling as he opened his eyes, amethyst was all he saw.

She smiled at him, one that made her eyes shimmer like an unending blaze, and then he could feel the warmth of her hand leave his neck. He found himself exhaling, clasping her hand tighter than he intended. She glanced down at their hands before looking back at him, her smile spreading to reveal the white of her teeth, and Robb’s insides turned to butterflies’ wings. He smiled too, relief and joy overtaking his mind as he could focus on nothing more than her smile, the giddy mirth in the lines of her teeth, the curl of her lips that extenuated the loveliness of her cheekbones, the sincerity in the crinkle in her eyes.

“A beautiful smile,” he thought. “I could drown in it.”

She then closed her lips though her smile did not break. She turned her head to look towards the castle and took a step ahead of him, and Robb did not miss how their arms stretched out as he held his hold on her hand. A moment of fear struck him, and he imagined the flame in her eyes extinguishing, her tenderness dissolving into serpents of smoke as soon as he relinquished her hand.

He did not wish to return to the castle, savoring the breeze that glided through them, taking up her silver locks, swaying her braids as her gown lightly fluttered against her. She took another step, and Robb was sure she’d reclaim her hand, gently snatching it back and allowing it to fall to her side again. But instead she turn to look back at him, her expression soft, her smile light, and he stared back at her, a small look of apprehension.

“You won’t let me go, will you?” Her question was sweetly innocent, laced with affection.

And Robb smiled with elation, “Unless you ask it of me, but until then, I’ll never let you go.”

The embers of her eyes flashed with dancing flames as her smile stretched, and Robb thought he saw a pink tint to her cheeks. Only then did she proceed her steps, her boots crunching over the emerald grass, their hands laced together as she lead him from underneath the tree toward Winterfell. And with each step, not a word did they speak—not a word was needed as he trailed behind her, his eyes lost in the waterfall of her hair, his mind drifting to future touches, future kisses, wrapping her in a warm cloak.


End file.
